The Taken King
by Starlight's Poet
Summary: On the day Jaune Arc was born, a powerful, yet dark being perished. Years later, when his home is destroyed - family and friends dead before him - a darkened heart within him awakens. This human self granted him understanding. And with it, grief and rage. The ones who took his dearest kin would pay. Now, the Taken King has come to claim vengeance once again.
1. Chapter 1

The cultures between human races, and those used to its culture, are fundamentally different from those who are not accustomed to their ways. It is a fact that there shall always be misunderstanding, bane, and reject.

Before I was known as the Taken King Oryx, I was little more than a scion of royalty. Back then, the Hive were merely labels ones placed on those who willingly came into a pact with those we worshiped. Back then, were had a proper name: "Krill." Force was little more than a display of affection we showed for our gods and elders. Our kingdom thrived until a betrayer enacted his schemes of grandeur.

That day, my sisters and I lost a father. Our kingdom became broken and desperate…as did we. We could not allow this transgression to stand, and nor would we allow our kingdom to fall.

Thus, we entered a pact with our wondrous gods. We forged a connection with what you humans came to call The Darkness.

To humans, our culture then as "Hive" was one of utter disgust and vile. We waged war on one another. Partook in genocide against one another. Betrayed one another. Murdered one another. Such was the love we showed. It is natural that humans and other races would misinterpreted such concepts.

There was a time, back when I was a mere princeling, that I feared what I would grow to become. The one known as Aurash feared the future King of the Hive.

As per part of the pact with the gods, we were given a "core" that would grant us immeasurable strength. With it, a role: Savathûn would become one who schemes with a terrifying cunning nature. Xivu Arath would become a deity of war that must constantly combat. I would seek questions and answers. In that sense, I was no different from the Guardians who pursue knowledge and wisdom – Warlocks they called themselves.

However, we soon came to learn that this "core" came with a burden – it must be fed. Bloodshed and destruction: chaos was its food, and we provided. For each time it fed, we grow stronger. For each time we grew in strength, its hunger would grow. Before long, I realized that I would soon be unable to satiate its thirst.

And thus, I sought answers to the questions I searched for – a way to alleviate this maddening hunger.

I soon discovered the answer to this question – the system humans called "caste." Through the Tithe, we would be able to feed our "core's" hunger.

Before long, I also discovered knowledge of the Darkness itself. I unraveled its mysteries, learned its secrets. Eventually, I soon became crowned by both the gods and my family with a new title. One that brought forth true, undying loyalty to our numbers.

The Krill princeling that was once Aurash had become that which she once feared – the Hive-God Oryx.

 **The Taken King.**

As the world fell into the Darkness' grasp, I came to learn that which became known as the Darkness' mortal foe. A source of all virtue and righteousness in the world: The Traveler. It bequeathed those it deemed worthy of its Light power. The Guardians it forged were bathed in this sacred virtue, clad with the powers of Sol, Arc and Void.

For a time, I found myself appalled.

We, the Krill, now known to the humans as The Hive, had become powerful and feared through constant war and shows of strength. Once, we were naught but foolish bottom-feeders who grew to become the apex predators. Yet the humans and those who allied with the humans – the Exos and the Awoken – had progressed because of their reliance on this so-called Light of virtue. The idea that these pitiful beings prospered because of their reliance on the Traveler sickened me without end.

However…back then, they were but an annoyance. I was content with my role, devouring worlds to learn more of their secrets and inquire new questions about the unresolved mysteries.

And then…the Guardians had brought forth a most grave transgression against the Krill-nay! Against me.

They robbed me of my son, Crota.

I felt only rage. Pure. Raw. Violent. It came swiftly, and it did not cease as I destroyed a world out of rage. That which I once considered a nuisance had become a target of retribution.

They dare take one of my precious kin? Then I would gladly rob them of something equal. I would rob them of their Light!

And thus, I took from them. I took their greatest enemies at first – to show them that not even those they feared the most could stand against me. The Vex – miserable piles of scrap iron and bolts and wires – were the first to fall. Though they worshiped the Darkness, I considered them worthless. Mere fodder. Yet their weaponry and power over time proved impressive, making them an excellent addition. The Cabal – powerful and unrelenting brutes most worthy of joining the Taken – were next. Their prowess and favor of destroying that which opposed them made them no different than my kin.

Of course, they waged wars for the sake of conquest. We waged war out of love and to sake the thirst of our "cores."

And then, I took members of my kin. Those who wished to ascend to even greater heights in order to reek vengeance against the ones who robbed them of their beloved prince. Without hesitation, I took them – blessed them with true power.

With each soul I took, I felt them become washed with ecstasy over the putrid taint that robbed them of their senses. They rejoiced in their filthy states – **reveled** in it.

Before long, I declared my vengeance against the Warriors of Light who took my beloved Crota from me. They resisted as expected, vainly struggling against my Taken. However, my unbridled rage grew when I discovered the Guardian who killed my beloved son – the wretch who dared to stand against me.

At each turn, this Guardian defied me. They destroyed my Taken and prevailed in rendering my Dreadnaught incapable of wiping away any useless filth that dared to strike against me. My rage grew with each success, and it rose to even greater heights when that wretch **defiled** my son! They dared to rob Crota of his dignity, stripping him of a piece of his own Soul!

I would not take this fool. No matter how powerful that foolish guardian was, I would have vengeance!

And yet…I fell.

I, the Taken King, fell at their hands. Not once…but _twice_.

The first time, they had come to bring an end to the threat of my Taken. To stop me. No matter how oppressed by the beautiful Darkness I had sworn myself to, I felt their Light burn brightly like a white-hot star. They slew my Taken – and then they slew me.

I would not allow death to take me so easily, however. I would not be denied my vengeance. I managed to salvage what little of me there was, and recuperated in the dark. Absorbed and soaked in its brilliance.

Then, one day, the Guardian returned with five others. Like them, they too burned brilliantly like stars in the suffocating blackness that consumed hope.

Once more, my rage burned as they took my daughters away from me. Truthfully, I would be able to restore them, but nonetheless, it was yet another transgression that infuriated me without end.

How much more does this Guardian intend to make me suffer this horrendous heartache?!

Finally, however…after the six warriors, blessed by the damnable virtue and righteousness of the Traveler, defeated me…I understood.

The Light of this Guardian inspired other Lights to burn. To shun away the dark, no matter how oppressive it may be. They were a leader, like I. Trudging forward for the sake of their people. To grow greater with each step, obtaining knowledge and power.

How curious that they, blessed by the Light, would match me, blessed by the Darkness, in equal measure. Surpass me.

With that, I would willingly allow myself to fade away from this world. To allow myself to fall.

Of course…my legacy would not be forgotten – for those who fell the Taken King shall be bequeathed my title and power. My killer would become my successor – a testament to the fearsome power that was the God of the Hive. And their killer would also become the Taken King. And their killer was well. And then their killer - and the cycle would continue.

Yes…even now, as I am erased from this world, "core" destroyed and rendered nothing but sinews of rotted flesh and decay, my name shall yet live on.

Though I still harbor nothing but hate for that Guardian, who dared to rob me of my precious Crota…I could not help but admire their adversity and power.

They are worthy to become "Oryx."

* * *

 **A Destiny x RWBY Crossover:**

 **"The Taken King"**

* * *

In one world, a Vessel had been destroyed. A Soul without a host.

In another, a Vessel had been born. One host to a powerful Soul, brimming with Light.

The mother had wept in pain, struggling to give the newborn life as she pushed it out of her womb. After an hour of effort, the Vessel emerged from its abode, takings its first breaths into this wondrous yet dangerous world, teetering on the brink of Light and Dark.

However, this newborn was not the first the mother had given birth to. Prior, seven more vessels were born, each with their own brilliance.

The eldest was known for her beauty and strength. A queen of combat – fierce, powerful and unyielding. She would never back down from a battle, no matter how perilous.

The second was no warrior. Rather, a scholar and seeker of knowledge – venturing willingly into territories blithe by chaos and the Dark. She braved such dangers in pursuit of the history her world has long since forgotten.

The third followed in the footsteps of the first. While not as powerful as the eldest, she was a tactician at heart. She studied her opponents, learned their methods – from how they walked to how they moved – down to the very last detail. While the eldest defeated foes with overwhelming power, she defeated her enemies with cunning wit alone.

The fourth held no such grand dreams. Rather, she chose a simple life – taking up the thread and needle. She was the closest to the male Vessel, even making for him a comfortable nightly attire, however embarrassing it may have been.

The fifth and sixth were twins. Inseperable. One followed the path of the second, the other following behind the eldest and the third sister. The sixth was neither cunning nor powerful – instead she was but a mere trickster. With a slight of hand, she would bring forth her opponent's downfall. The fifth was a curious mania – wondering about forgotten secrets while providing ridiculous, yet astounding answers to unsolved questions.

The seventh was not as successful as the Vessels born before her. One may remark as her as dull and ordinary – raised in the shadows of her overachieving siblings. Perhaps, of course, this was why she tormented the eight Vessel born into her kin.

The male Vessel of this family was, otherwise, the same as the seventh woman of his brood. Unremarkable. No aspirations, no talent for anything.

Such was the Vessel called "Jaune Arc."

While many in his family were mere historians and warriors, he was but a wayward youth seeking answers to a journey he had yet to discover. For many years since his birth, he sought a path to take. However, he had yet to find a resolve – an answer to these questions that plagued him. Instead of becoming a warrior or a seeker of knowledge, he instead turned his life towards the hoe and the field. An unremarkable life of the utmost certainty, yet even he could not deny the prospering desires of becoming a legend like those the fourth girl had often read to him in his youngling days.

He yearned to wield a sword and become a legend himself, yet he found no talent in holding a weapon. For that, the seventh often plagued him. Ignorance was bliss, one might say, and he gladly partook in such a thing. Turning his eyes away from the disgust and torture she often brought to his being.

For years, the male Vessel of the Arc Family lived a quiet and humble life.

That changed, however, when the fifteenth summer in his yearly span of life came to pass.

The male Vessel trudged forth in the darkness that was the forest that encircled his abode. Far off in the distance, horrible flames raged in tandem with the screams of those who were set upon by vicious black beasts, armored with ivory bones. His once clean clothes were dirtied with mud and red blotches of liquid that have long since dried and stained. Bruises and cuts littered his being, hair disheveled with a limp in his right leg, cradling his left arm. He bit his lip, holding back grunts and screams of pain that burned his entire body.

He tried fruitlessly to block out the maddening laughter of the man with the scorpion tail, and the cold and impassive gaze of the woman with golden eyes, but they were carved into his mind. Burned and seered forever into his very Soul.

As was the image of his family, slain before him as he hid like the coward he knew he was.

 _Jaune, stay here! Whatever you do, don't come out!_

 _No matter what you hear or see, please… PLEASE, Baby. Don't come out of there._

 _Hide, little brother. Hide and wait for your sisters to come back._

He obeyed. He listened. But _**he shouldn't have**_. He watched in silence, in cold and utter dread, as he watched them fall.

He dared not recall the horrible mess that was the mangled forms of what was once his beloved kin.

Thus, the male Vessel ran. Ran as fast as possible. The beasts did not notice him and continued hunting the people in his abode.

As he came towards a clearing, the Vessel clasped his hands over his ears, ignoring the screaming of pain that made itself known in his battered arm. Screams of the damned screeched in the canals of his ears.

Without end, they screamed. Like banshees, haunting him. Cursing him for his cowardice.

"Why…?" the Vessel inquired in despair, tears streaming down his face. They cut through the dirt that caked his cheeks, dripping down his chin and falling to the earth, staining the giant orb of rock and dirt with its owner's grief. "Why…did this have to happen?"

The unresolved question for many who lay in despair. The question for which there was no true answer.

Wordlessly, the Vessel trudged forward – survival driving him forward with each step.

* * *

After a week of attempting to hunt and recuperate, the Vessel happened upon a small cave to take refuge in. His entire form was soaked from head to toe as the storm raged on, lightning cackling within the pitch black skies.

At first, it was meant to be a simple respite. Curiosity, however, had driven him to inquire the mysterious wonder of the cave when he noticed a soft green glow coming from within. Against the cautious whisper in his mind, he delved deeper, discovering what appeared to be signs of some sort of ancient civilization. The architecture – bizarre and grotesque like a mix of warped nature and earth – was strangely comforting.

The creatures who inhabited it were not.

Many he found roaming around aimlessly, some gnawing on scattered bones, were like walking corpses. Their bodies were pale, skin cracked and figures disgustingly thin. The Vessel doubted that what sat atop the sinews of muscle and strands of bone could be called skin, as it had far too many cracks. There was also no skin whatsoever at their teeth. They lacked a nose and eyes. They had no ears whatsoever.

Yet they clearly smelled him.

In an instant, they rushed at him, screeching like demented banshees after discovering an object most horrendous and disgusting that it must be defiled. He tried to run, but the pain in his leg had not yet healed. Within six steps, he fell and was set upon by the horrendous creatures.

Before any could take a bite out of him, however, a chilling voice rang out in the darkness. "ENOUGH."

Like puppets on strings, the creatures stopped. A chilling, unpleasant silence, disturbed only by the soft chattering these creatures gave along with the creaking of their bodies, followed. They parted like a sea, revealing a being wrapped in a tattered, worn cloak. Beneath the few gaps the Vessel saw, there was pale flesh with cracks. The fingers were elongated and thin with sharp talons – like the thin legs of a spider. The hood obscured much of their face, yet what he found was nothing short of grotesque.

Whatever lay beneath that cloak, it was most assuredly not human.

"…WHAT BRINGS A SPECK OF LIGHT TO OUR ABODE?" the robed creature asked, tone neither polite nor hostile. "PERHAPS A LITTLE WAYWARD LAMB, STRANDED FROM ITS SHEPARD?"

The Vessel cowered before it, unable to answer even as the robed creature leaned forward. Beneath the darkness of the hood, chilling green orbs of light peered out, gazing into his eyes.

"I…I was lost…" the Vessel admitted with fear. "I…I sought shelter from the storm, a-and I-"

Suddenly, the robed creature recoiled, as if stunned. "YOU…" it whispered. The Vessel, for a brief moment, was confused. There was a tone of awe in its voice. "YOU SPEAK THE ROYAL TONGUE?!"

The Vessel knew nothing of which it spoke. However, he found it strange. The cold voice this creature spoke was foreign and alien…yet he understood it, as if it were the English language. It then struck him like a bolt of lightning.

The robed creature spoke a different language. And he answered it in the same tongue it spoke.

"COULD IT BE…?" the robed creature murmured, circling around the male Vessel while the chittering creatures around him looked at one another with what he presumed was excitement. "AN ASCENDANT…REBORN AS A SPECK OF LIGHT?" After a moment, it released a cold chuckle. "MOST CURIOUS…"

"W-what…what are you?" the Vessel asked.

"ONCE, WE WERE KNOWN AS KRILL." The robed creature responded. The Vessel noted how its voice had developed a tone of respect – tender even. "HOWEVER, THE HUMANS AND THEIR ALLIES – EVEN THEIR ENEMIES – CALLED US HIVE. WE ARE LITTLE MORE THAN SCAVENGERS ON THIS EARTH, FEW IN NUMBER WITHOUT A WIZARD TO SPAWN MORE THRALL." It motioned its arm, gesturing to the numerous creatures around them. "THOUGH YOU A SPECK OF LIGHT, YOU SPEAK THE ROYAL TONGUE. NO HUMAN ON THIS WORLD SHOULD KNOW OF IT…YET YOU SPEAK IT FLUENTLY." Once more, it gave a chuckle. "A SPECK OF LIGHT YOU MAY BE, YOU WERE CLEARLY OF OUR KIN ONCE IN A PREVIOUS LIFE."

It turned its back to him, waving a decrepit hand. "COME."

And the Vessel followed with slight trepidation.

* * *

In the following months – was it months? Time felt so horribly disfigured down here – the Vessel spent his days in the underground cavern that was home to those humankind called the Hive. In that time, he had briefly followed the footsteps of few of his kin and sought knowledge as if he were a scholar. The robed creature, which referred itself as a mere Priest, had been more than willing to explain its history to the young Vessel.

The Hive, in truth, were little more than ascended beings born originally as a weak species called the "Krill." Though pitiful and without power, their benevolent king was loved and respected. One day, however, he was betrayed by one of his daughter's suitors. The traitor even claimed his children unfit to rule.

In response, and wreathed in righteous fury, they entered a pact with their gods. And they transcended into higher beings – they became gods themselves. So too did the Krill ascend into what came to be known as the Hive. At first, their numbers were matched only by those who granted them power and existence. Through the pursuit and avarice of one of their godly kings, their numbers expanded. This same entity had even gained greater knowledge and insight, allowing him immeasurable power.

The Vessel listened, awed and intrigued by these tales.

The Priest spoke of others as well. It spoke of horrendous machines known as the Vex – machines sharing a singular mind and soul – who commanded space and time itself. They traversed worlds and homes at their leisure, even converting one world into one of pure mechanical wonder and despair. It spoke of the Cabal – nothing but warring brutes of raw force – who dominated and conquered whatever they found in pursuit of expansion and glory. It spoke, with great disdain, of the Guardians – warriors blessed by the Darkness' mortal enemy – who safeguarded many worlds and fought back against them, wielding great powers that invoked the blazing force of the sol, the cold and chilling hunger of the void, and the wild and fearsome power of the arc.

The Priest also spoke of those in the Hive who they worshiped, revered and served with pleasure: The Ascended. Among their numbers was their godly king and his sisters. However, in the past, the godly king had lost his only son Crota to the guardians. From that day, the entity vowed unholy revenge against the Servants of the Traveler.

Sadly, much to their grief, he fell at the hands of the Guardians. With him, his beloved daughters.

With each tale, the Vessel listened. With each tale, the Vessel learned. At one point during his stay, he inquired about the royal tongue in which the Priest spoke of in their first meeting.

"ASCENDED CANNOT TRULY DIE UNLESS THEY ARE SLAIN WITHIN THEIR HEAVENLY REALMS." The Priest explained to him. "EVEN THEN, THEIR SOULS PERSIST. DEATHSINGERS GIVE THEM SONGS TO ALLOW THEM TO TRANSCEND TO ANOTHER WORLD. A CHANCE TO BE BORN AGAIN. YOU SPEAK IN THE ROYAL TONGUE – A LANGUAGE SPOKEN ONLY BY THE ASCENDANT. YOU WERE BORN, IN A PREVIOUS LIFE, AS ONE OF OUR KIN. THAT IS THE ONLY REASON WE HAVE SHOWN YOU KINDNESS. REMEMBER THAT WELL, SPECK."

Though it said such words with malice, it meant none of it. It viewed him with the same familiar tone as it did with the rest of its kin.

The Vessel also learned of the "caste" system that the Priest had mentioned to him.

The Thrall – lesserborn Hive and literal newborns. They fed off of anything they could scavenge. They were also the closest the Hive had to flesh-eating bacteria, wiping away any unsightly diseases carcasses may bear. An impressive immune system the Thrall had.

The Wizard – dabblers in the ancient arts of the Krill. They were among the few who could create new Thrall. Once, the Vessel inquired if the Wizard birthed them like a mother would an infant. The Priest, regrettably, told him that only a Wizard would have such an answer. They had lost their Wizard to a warrior of light once who stumbled upon their safehaven, thus forcing them to rely on what few Thrall they had to grow and mature in new ones.

The Hell Knights – warriors armed with blades, tasked with protecting their abode. Armored with thick red plating, they guarded the abode with fervor. Like the Thrall, even they were short in number.

The Acolyte – the next stage of evolution for the Thrall. They were not as powerful as the Knights or masters of the arcane like the Wizard, but they were strong enough to partake in battle with the envoys of the Light.

The Ogre – a massive beast, one born of carnage and devastation. Only the most fierce and deadliest of the Thrall shall be made into one of these horrendous beasts.

The Priest – these were of shorter number than even the Thrall in their abode. The robed creature confessed that he was the only one of his Tithe here in the abode, attending to his kin. Truthfully, Priests were ill-suited for combat and were much like scholars and their namesake – seekers of knowledge and worshipers of gods.

The Vessel was astounded, yet even he confessed a fear for the Darkness. The Priest laughed at this, telling him that he was right to be fearful of it. It was their one true lord and master – their idol and entity alongside their gods. He would only know of its truest pleasures if he were a Hive-born once more.

The Vessel once recalled a saying one of his kin told him once: "curiosity shall kill the cat." While pursuing unsolved mysteries was perhaps exciting and wondrous, it had more than its own fair share of dangers. Some secrets were secrets for a reason, and the truth may be harsher than one may imagine or believe.

Yet it was because of the Vessels earlier inquiry in pursuit of knowledge that he asked if it were possible for a "reincarnated" to remember their past.

According to the Priest, the Soul was forever and eternal. Only through the highest transgressions and violations shall a Soul be unable to retain and recall its former glory. If the Soul was eternal, then would it also be able to remember its past experiences?

The Priest seemed to be utterly delight with his curiosity. It led him to a pool of murky black liquid, which lay undisturbed. It called it the "Pool of Remembrance" – the last remaining memento of their fallen Wizard. As the Vessel once inquired about the nature of the soul and memory, Wizards also pondered on such a mysterious wonder and tried to solve it, producing theory after theory before they eventually developed this.

Of course, there had been none who they encountered that was a reborn Hive. Even if they did, what use was this pool when they had been reborn into their rightful existence? A useless and foolhardy pursuit.

For a speck of Light, however…it was a most curious thought indeed.

The Vessel was scared at first. He wondered what would happen if he took the plunge, bathing himself in such a foul pool? However, as he stared back at his murky reflection, he found his memories coming back to haunt him.

The horrible screams.

The damnable snarls.

The wailing of the damned.

The demented laughter of the man with the scorpion tail.

The cold gaze of the woman with the golden eyes.

The more he remembered these horrific nightmares, the more he wished them to end. This curiosity, which may be the death of him, may perhaps holds advantages. If he died in this futile attempt to remember a past he may not even have, then he would at least be with his family. If not, then perhaps these unfound memories would allow him a reprieve from these nightmares.

With a shuddering intake of breath, the Vessel allowed himself to fall into the black water below.

* * *

 _The moment my body fell into the pool, my whole world went dark._

 _I could not hear. I could not see. I could not speak. I could not think._

 _It was as if it was nothing more than silence._

 _In the midst of this silence, I found myself horrified._

 _Memories of that horrible night came back to me. In the background, I saw fire and smoke rising outside the windows of my wonderful home. My mother, shielding him from the horrors that happened outside, rushed me into a closet where she hoped I would not be found. With my battle-tested sisters, she rushed outside to defend our home._

 _I waited minutes-no, hours for them to return. I begged whatever god there was to bring them home safely._

 _My family returned home…but not without unwelcomed guests._

 _The battle continued inside the house. I watched, hiding like the disgusting coward I was, as the Creatures of Grimm set themselves upon the defenseless forms of my older sisters, claws tearing into skin and fangs biting off huge chunks of flesh. My mother, screaming and wailing in pain as her body was encroached with blistering flames, her skin cracking and breaking apart while becoming charred from the intense heat._

 _One of my sisters had been impaled on the scorpion tail the man possessed, hanging limply with lifeless eyes as the man who owned the tail laughed like a crazed madman, finding joy in this meaningless slaughter.  
_

 _The most vivid thing of all was my eldest sister's eyes – her dead, dull eyes – staring right back at me._

 _I had only watched – weak, pitiful and ashamed – as my home was destroyed. At the first chance I got, I ran like a coward. Watching as my birthplace was torn apart._

 _An unheard scream ripped from my throat. My body refused to obey my commands to shield me further._

 _I didn't want to remember any of this! I wanted to forget it! I want to pretend it never happened! Why?! Why must you make me suffer by making me relive this torture?! Was this to be my punishment?! To make me realize that I am a fool for wishing to be a hero like the ones my sister read to me?!_

 _If so, then kill me! Please! Let me die! Let me be with my family again! I can't bear this horrible pain any longer!_

 _I begged the Priest who fed and looked after me during my exile in the cavern to kill me, but the bastard thought I was delusional! He believed I was in pain and needed time to heal!_

 _Why?! Why couldn't you understand?!_

 _Then, suddenly…my world turned dark again._

 _Once more, silence. No screams. Just a cold void without sound or sight._

 _Seconds pass. Minutes. Hours. Perhaps even days._

 _Then…new, horrific scenes play out before me._

 _Worlds are being ravaged by the Hive – their power and strength displayed in full glory._

 _The civil wars partaken between them, slaughtering each other en masse as a way of showing affection, however morbid and horrific the sights are._

 _Grotesque beings, feeding upon the mangled corpses – entrails hanging out in plain sight with their bodies already half-eaten._

 _I wanted it to stop. I tried to beg – to shut my ears and avert my eyes – but nothing would grant me mercy._

 _Yet, strangely, with each dark scene that played out, I began to remember things._

 _I knew these memories well. As each was being played – so vividly and detailed – I found myself recognizing them._

 _One sight, in particular, made me feel the urge to weep._

 _Before me was a creature of the Hive – yet its being oozed with authority and power. Its body composed of ephemeral, cold light that glowed like fire. Earthen armor covered parts of its body, crystals sprouting from its form. Wisps of light danced around its limbs, as if weaving together the threads to keep such an unstable body together. In hand was a giant blade, cloaked in cold and unforgiving light that swallowed the ephemeral divinity of whatever it touched. Three glowing eyes stared back at whatever laid before it, resolve and determination clear._

 _To some, it was a monster. A true beast of darkness, worse than any Grimm one might encounter. A master of atrocities and an avatar of death and destruction._

 _I, however, saw only beauty in its form._

 _I knew this being._

 _Its name was Crota. An Ascended Hive. A God. A Prince._

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

… _ **my son.**_

* * *

At first, there was nothing. Save for the splash of when the Vessel had fallen into the Pool of Remembrance, the waters were still. The Thrall gathered around it, looking on eagerly while the Knights watched with mild disinterest. Acolytes joined the Priest's side, waiting for a sign.

The Priest, from the moment it encountered the Vessel, had found naught but wanton curiosity. A speck of Light was most certainly a reborn Ascendant Hive, if it was truly capable of speaking the Royal Tongue. It brought forth the question of who this speck of Light may have once been.

Was he Crota? Their lost prince? As enticing as it was, it doubted such was the case. A wretched Guardian had ripped his Soul during his rights as he was being ready to be sent to another world to transcend to.

As it pondered this, the Pool showed signs of activity. Bubbles began rising to the surface. At first, a meager few – possibly signs of the Vessel releasing small breaths of oxygen. However, more began to quickly rise in greater number. Ripples soon followed the bubbles, gently crashing against the rims of the pool.

The Thralls chattered with excitement, leaning forward while the Knights were now curious, leaning forward on their blades. The Acolytes joined the Thralls in their excitement.

Then, the pool exploded. The black liquid burst high into the air, spreading across the entirety of the abode while a shockwave blowed through the area. Thralls, Acolytes and even Knights were thrown off their feet, slamming into the walls. The Priest managed to stay its ground, but its shroud was ripped off of its frail form, exposing its decaying and rotting skin.

The remains of the pool fell upon the Hive like rain. Slowly, the Priest lowered its arm. There, in the center of the now empty pool, was the Vessel.

He had changed considerably.

His mop of blonde hair had become pitch black – the color of the darkness. His skin was pale. A crack was found beneath his left eye, running down his cheek and coming to a stop at his neck. From within the crack on his skin, an unearthly light seeped. His eyes, which were closed, slowly opened to reveal pale white eyes, glowing like fire and leaving behind a trail of pale light as he slowly raised his head, as if to address them.

His lips parted, opening before rearing his head, releasing a cry that howled with grief and rage untold. The air shuddered. The ground cracked. The earth trembled. Black holes were ripped open across the abode – tendrils of ghostly light dragging any Hive unfortunate to be close enough to be caught and dragged in. The Priest watched, frozen in pure awe and shock, as the Vessel continued to scream, unaware of what was transpiring around him.

As the last of the black holes closed – having Taken many Thralls, Acolytes and a few Knights – the Vessel lowered his head, panting while his form trembled.

From where it stood, the Priest shook with reverence and excitement. Of all the Ascended the Vessel could have been…it did not expect him to be IT. The sheer dominating presence and aura that flowed from his very being was quite familiar. There was not a Hive alive who did not know this presence, this…sublime power.

He was born a speck of Light, though now that Light had been tainted. His Soul was now painted black, seeping with the power that he once carried within him in his previous life.

As its kin regained their bearings, they too recognized the presence the Vessel emanated. Without hesitation, they kneeled before him.

The Priest bowed to its knees, clasping its hands in prayer and lowering its head. It was unworthy to gaze at his now reincarnated form.

Their King had returned to them.

* * *

As my Tainted Aura calmed, my Soul could only shake, absorbing the newfound presences and consciousnesses that occupied it. I calmed myself, reeling in these chaotic emotions.

To think, humans could be so emotional. How laughable…yet interesting.

I looked around, finding my kin keeling before me. They knew who I was. They witnessed my rebirth.

I looked at my hands. So unfamiliar and strange to me – hands similar to those of the Guardians who robbed me of my precious son Crota – they felt natural. I closed my fingers into a fist, noting the sensation before I closed my eyes.

This accursed Light that slept within me…it had awoken at last. My rebirth had unlocked it. Yet this Pool of Remembrance had tainted it. Marred its brilliance. Staining it with corruption. This newfound human self of mine was repulsed and horrified, yet I found it fitting for one such as myself.

I allowed my Aura to flare out, wishing to test my newfound power – this ability belonging to my accursed Light. My original self – clad in the warped, ghostly light that all Taken are shrouded in – shimmered into existence. This manifestation was a symbol of my Soul – a Semblance if memory serves. I found it amusing that it was my ability to 'take' that became the symbol of my accursed Light – the aspect that I embodied.

With a wave of my hand, the construct followed. Ghostly lights shimmered before me, expanding and solidifying into the Taken Forms of the Hive I had unconsciously Taken upon my rebirth. They reveled and rejoiced in their ascension, overwhelmed with joy and ecstasy as they felt my power corrupting them, down to their very bones.

Yet I found no satisfaction.

There was a familiar sensation plaguing me. A sensation I had felt before. Angrily, my hand went to my chest, hovering over the spot where a human's beating heart was. It shook with grief and anger.

Yes…this was rage. A feeling I knew all to well.

I held no love for humans, nor their allies: the Exos and the Awoken. It was them who took my son from me. Though I found a begrudging respect for them, especially the Guardians who had bested me, I most certainly did not hold any love for them.

Yet…this new human self of mine has helped me reach new understanding. Like us, humans felt love, but they showed it so differently. They showed affection through interactions, not war. They showed love threw contact, not bloodshed. Such a thing was bizarre to me as it must have been for them when they discovered our ways of showing love.

It was also through this newfound understanding of human that I found myself once again in grief and anger.

"They dare…?" I whispered, unable to hide my anger. "Someone has dared take my precious kin away from me? They _dare?!_ "

It was a foolish mistake.

Once, I lost a son to the Guardians. I felt rage and anger, boiling as a million white-hot suns. I sought vengeance against them, only to fall. Born as a human with light, however putrid, I now understand. Though I recalled nothing of my former self back in those ignorant days, I grew to understand human nature. That light, however faced with adversity, would persist and flourish. For that reason alone, the Guardians, blessed by their wretched Traveler, hold my respect. However...these wretched curs have reminded me once again the horrific pain of losing one's flesh and blood. Once again, the rage that burned in my heart the day Crota ceased to be has become known to me. I hold a begrudging respect to the Guardians and their wretched light, for I now bare a similiar strength, however tainted it has become now. However...these miserable wretches, who dared to rob me of the precious kin I cherished...I shall show no mercy.

I turned to the Priest, who's head remained lowered. "What is your will, My Lord?"

"...gather them." I growled as my Tainted Aura burned, resonating with this untold rage of mine. The Taken before me rose, answering my call. My kin also rose, understanding my fury. They knew I felt human understanding, and through this understanding grief once more. They were answering the call of their king. "Human. Faunus. Grimm. I care not. _I will take them all_."

Rest assured...there shall be hell to pay for this transgression. For now, they know nothing of the coming darkness that will soon haunt them...but they will. I will MAKE. THEM. KNOW.

Let them know... _ **that the Taken King has come for them**_.

-Chapter 1…END-


	2. Chapter 2

The emotions humans felt had never ceased to amaze nor appall me.

These fifteens years as the human, born as "Jaune Arc," had given me insight to how and why a human acts on such impulses. Of course, such things were trivial to one such as I. In my quest for vengeance against the Guardians and their Traveler, I had "Taken" many humans. Through them, I learned many things.

Humans are...truly pitiful creatures. Time and time again, they wage war against one another for trivial reasons such as morals or ambitions, making up fraudulent excuses to make the guilt easier to deal with. The creation of this SIVA was one such example of humanity's stupidity. Some wanted to use it to progress the medical field and to expand their reach to the stars. Other wished to use it for conflict and war.

This world, however...is truly one of pity.

The sub-humans called Faunus have tried, time and time again, to give the humans the olive branch of peace. They sought co-existence. But time and time again, humanity's arrogance brought them to slap away the hand of peace and continue to persecute. Such foolish actions are what caused this one peaceful organization known as the White Fang to become one of the most bloodiest organizations this broken world has ever seen.

Additionally, the Darkness that has rooted this planet - the Grimm - are attracted to their negativity. Humans and Faunus, consumed by their own wrath and hate towards another, simply adds fuel to the fire. One day, it shall lead to their extinction.

I hold it within my power to bring an end to such a conflict.

...but I will not. While I have gained understanding as a human, and influenced by this understanding, the affairs between them are trivial. I am bound by only one goal.

To find the two who took my kin, and bring them to their knees.

Since my rebirth, I have begun "Taking" those I have found. My power to twist and warp one's existence by ripping them from the material plane and bring them before the Dark has been twisted into becoming a facet of my Tainted Soul - a Semblance. Whatever I "Take" becomes added to my Soul. It becomes apart of me. I feel whatever I "Take."

I felt the anger and hatred humans feel towards the Faunus. And I feel the retribution the Faunus hold towards the humans. As for the Grimm, I feel nothing. They are truly soulless. They are without feeling. No better than the Vex - machines programmed with a single directive.

My kin had remodeled our abode considerably. With the help of my Taken, they remodeled it into a place fit to be called a Palace. I sat in its throne room, sitting atop a Throne carved off rock and warped nature. Being naked would have been a trivial concern, but as I said before, I was influenced greatly by this human self I developed. As such, I had no choice but to clothe myself. A simple black jacket bearing my emblem, embroiled upon the back with a dark blue v-neck. Simple black slacks with dark boots, strapped into place with gray straps and dark red highlights.

As I sat on my Throne, pondering, the Priest came into the Throne Room. As it entered halfway, he kneeled and bowed his head. "Your Majesty..." it told me. "As you commanded, we have grouped many races on this world together for you to Take. Have you learned of anything that may lead you to enact your vengeance?"

"...no." I reply. "Nothing."

Apart from adding a Taken to becoming a component in my Soul, I learned of another useful talent - observing their memories.

One of the newly-born Wizards, at long last, had devised a theory. Before, when I was a Hive-God, I ripped one's existence from the material plane and brought them before the Darkness. There, they would be twisted. Warped. Corrupted. Shaped into the ideal phantom for me to control. My Semblance is a weaker variant. Rather than the Darkness, I expose them to the twisted taint that is my own Soul. This dimension - let us refer to it as the Soulspace - is a weak replica of the Darkness. While not as powerful as the Darkness, the Soulspace can sufficiently warp and twist one to become a Taken and make them a component of my Soul.

As they apart of my Soulspace as a component, I know what they know. Both emotions and history.

It would prove a useful tool in discovering the wretches who took my sisters and family on this world away from me. Both my current self - the Taken King that sought vengeance for the death of my dearest son Crota - and my human self were intertwined. I would seek vengeance against these miserable curs.

In the meantime, however, I would simply add more to my collection of Taken. Already, I had built a sizable force. Some humans I took were Huntsman and Huntresses - this world's version of the Guardians, albeit without the Traveler's blessing. Their Light developed its own weapons - the power of Semblance and Aura - to fight back against the Grimm. It brought forth a great curiosity to me, however, if a Huntsman was still capable of utilizing their Semblance, even when corrupted.

Something I would wish to explore, provided the opportunity.

Of course, none of this had brought me anything new. With the loss of my original Taken forces, and barely enough Hive to take over a Settlement, I was forced to expand my power and "Take" anything I had found of use. Thus far, I had "Taken" many Beowolves and accumulated a number of Nevermores to act as spies. The Hive who wished to aide me by ascending to greater heights were of short supply, but worthy additions - twelve Knights in all with sixty Acolytes, along with a Wizard.

It would take time, but I would soon be able to build a sizable force.

What would I do with such a force, after erasing those who robbed me of my human self's precious kin? Nothing. I had accepted my defeat at the hands of the Guardian - my heir to this title of "Taken King." They proved worthy enough of it by striking me down. Such a thought, however, brought forth another curious question. How had I been reborn? To kill an Ascended Hive, they must be slain in their Throne Room: their own universe where they rule as king. Afterwards, through the cold and dreary songs of the Deathsingers, they would be born anew by transcending to a new world.

I, however, was not granted such luxury. Yet here I am, born in this newfound human self.

Bah...what use is thinking of such things? While I seek answers I yet know nothing of, my goal is simple and should remain my only priority.

I need information. I need a sizable force to help me claim my vengeance against those who robbed me of my human self's kin. These would be my goals.

The Priest soon left the chambers, attending to more important matters. In the meantime, I would use my newly acquired Taken to find new resources - new allies for me to claim as my own.

It was time to see what the Huntsman of this world are like.

* * *

This spectral image of my former self - born as Hive - remained just as powerful as it had once been long ago. It stood as a testament as to who I was. A reminder that, though I was now apart of humankind, I was still the rightful God-King of the Hive. It seems that I am able to transfer my consciousness to this construct, able to move about freely and throughout the world on the Spiritual Plain. In hand, a mere replicant of my WillBreaker. It would not be as powerful as the original, but it would serve me well enough.

This pitiful world of Remnant had a small, fleeting sense of beauty, however pathetic. Humankind of this planet were no better than the Guardians and their Traveler, hiding behind walls and praying that they were safe from what would no doubt come to claim them if they dared step outside their safehavens. A few more brave souls dared to live out in the open, armed and ready for combat. No matter where they rest, however, I found them constantly at odds with their companions - the Faunus.

If there was ever a race I found more pitiful than the humans, it was these foolish creatures. Idiots. Every last one of them. They try to make peace with the humans, but at each turn they are persecuted. The White Fang, once a helping hand, was now a symbol of terror of them. The very epitomy of humankind's self-destructive nature.

I would have found enjoyment, had I not been more concerned with finding new soldiers to "take."

Traveling through the Spiritual Plains, naught but a series of twisting tunnels, bent in ways that no living creature could comprehend, I found myself being flung through one of its openings. My spectral image manifested back into the material world, surrounded by lush green plantlife. Trees stood proudly among the landscape, leaves gently blowing into the air as the wind carried them.

A fine scenery...yet the prowling growls of future allies was hardly an inconvenience.

Already, my Taint called into action many Grimm. They were attracted and pulled by it. Enticed. Frenzied. In a way, I was rather amused. There was truly no greater source of negativity than myself. My spectral image spread out its wings as I stretched out my hand, ripping open the portals leading to my Soulspace. Once a Grimm crosses into the threshold, they'll be dragged in immediately and become apart of my Soul. From there, all that's left is to "Take" them.

The gathering had proceeded nicely. Already, I felt new additions being collected. Beowolves, Creeps - even an Ursa or two. The numbers would continue to grow. Hm...at this rate, I expect a sizable force within the next week.

I paused briefly. A faint shimmer echoed out to me - like a beacon. I craned my head, finding something that could only make me let out a growl.

Light.

The damnable Light.

I had to hold myself back from screaming out in anger, lest I alert them of my position. Seeing someone of the Light reminded me of the Guardians - those horrid servants of the Traveler. I have said so before. I hold respect, but no love for them and their allies. Should I ever encounter a Guardian, mark my works, I would end them on the spot. Of course...this new development may also bring good tidings. If there was someone of the Light here...perhaps I could see of whether or not it was possible to corrupt them and make use of them.

To my surprise, the shimmering of this Light had grown steadily closer. It seems this speck had been following me since my arrival not long after I crafted this spectral image.

Hmph...this should be a good test to see how powerful my Semblance is in combat.

Let us see what the warriors of Light on this world are capable of...

* * *

It was times like this that I wished I had my flask handy. Damn that Ozpin.

Wait, hold on. Before you go raisin' yer pitch forks at me, telling me to fuck off for dissing the almighty knowing son of a bitch that was the Headmaster of Beacon, you should know what kind of situation I'm in.

First things first. Let's explain why I'm all the way out here in the Forever Fall forest. Beautiful place at a beautiful time of year. Perfect place to have a picnic with your smoking wife and adorable little demon, right? Nope. Grimm Activity had been on the rise in this area ever since the Isle Massacre that happened little more than two weeks ago. Oz thinks that Salem might have had a hand in that, so he asked me to look into any possible hotbeds of Grimm Activity.

Personally speaking, I don't understand why Salem destroyed an entire settlement. I mean, yeah, anyone who knew their history knew that the Arc Family had more than a few good asskickers. I met their oldest daughter, Jeanne, once during a job Oz had me run in Mistral. Whew~ Let me tell you, sexiest pair of legs I had ever seen. A shame she was so young.

...what? Don't go giving me that look! Even I have standards, dammit.

Anyways...I was already in Vale, so I decided to look into the rise of Grimm activity here in the Forever Fall. Grimm usually don't become active unless something big's about to happen. Oz once told me that, whenever Salem had something nasty cooked up, the Grimm would start to get restless. Said the best example was Mountain Glenn. Contrary to what people tell you, it was actually pretty damn well fortified for a settlement. By themselves, the Grimm wouldn't have been able to overtake it.

If they hadn't come in a frenzy due to Salem increasing the negative spike.

If Oz was right...then he was right to be scared of whatever the hell that woman was. I never met her, nor the allies she apparently has, but what I do know is that she is someone I don't want to piss off.

Which is saying something...as I somehow manage to piss off at least more than a handful of women in my life. Odd, though. I thought they were pretty damn happy when I decided to give them a good time.

...oh, don't give me that. Like you're any better!

Back on topic. It hadn't even been a minute when I entered the Forever Fall, and immediately I knew something was wrong.

The first thing that tipped me off was the horrid, shrill screams that echoed out like the damned cries of a banshee. Let me tell you something - if a forest is quiet for whatever reason, it means that there's Grimm prowling about. Hiding in the dark. Waiting for you. Normally, screams were the poor saps that were unlucky enough to find themselves as a Grimm's next meal. Nothing unusual. These screams were different. They were like the shrill cries of a banshee.

It reminded me of a Grimm I encountered back during my younger days in STRQ - a Nuckalavee, Raven called it. A Devil. Some days, I swear I can still hear its shrill screaming. Damn thing was the stuff of nightmares. I heard once that there was sightings of an Elder Nuckalavee somewhere in Mistral. Wiped out an entire village overnight. First it came, then the rest of the Grimm, tearing the village apart.

The screaming I was hearing reminded me a lot of that weird-ass human-horse abomination. I went further into the forest while keeping a hand on my weapon.

Ah, my trusty Grimm-slaying sword-scythe.

I dug further into Forever Fall, keeping an eye out. Weird...usually by now, a Grimm should be popping up somewhere. My ears picked up a low growl, meaning one was around here somewhere. I turned my eyes to find a Beowolf poking its upper body out through a bush, bearing its fangs.

"Aw, look." I rolled my eyes. "Salem brought her dog to greet me. How nice."

The Beowolf growled angrily, no doubt because I had more or less just insulted its mama somehow (wow, I just now realized! All Grimm are mama's boys! Hahahaha! That's fucking hilarious!) and tried to leap at me.

"Tried" being the keyword here.

Out of fucking nowhere, a black tear opened up right below it. Out from it was some kind of ghostly tether, wrapping around the pooch and causing it to fall to the ground prematurely. It desperately tried to get away, whining and howling pitifully as the portal-thingie dragged it further. At first, I thought I was wondering if I was somehow drunk without me taking a sip all day, rubbing my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things. There was a damned portal of some kind dragging a Grimm into it. The way it shimmered out, giving off a pale light reminded me of that movie I watched with Raven and Tai way back when.

Then, with the same shrill cry I've been hearing all morning, the Grimm was pulled into the portal. It collapsed into itself, swirling into a tiny ball of light that shrunk in size before fading out. It was like it never existed.

...well, shit. My day just got complicated more than it needed to be. Seriously, why was I not allowed to bring my damn flask?

I am too sober for this shit.

The more I delved into the red-colored forest of death, the more I realized just how _fun_ this day was going to be. I found even more of those portals, hanging out and etched deep into the surroundings. Remembering what happened to that poor little pooch from earlier, I made sure to stay away from 'em. I wasn't sure how these things dragged in a Grimm, and I wasn't exactly keen to find out.

I also noticed something else. The further I went in...how do I put it? It felt like there was this..suffocating darkness wrapping around my throat. Like some invisible thing had me by the throat and was strangling me. Suffocating me.

Given the shit I go through on a daily basis, I pretty much steel through it. Won't lie, though. Its...pretty disturbing. It kept on growing worse and worse until I eventually found the source of it.

And it was not a Grimm.

This...thing...was vile. Dark. Malevolent. I vaguely recall reading something that could describe what the fuck I was staring at with trepidation. Something something, yada yada...if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. Some shit like that. It was a writhing, moving shape composed of black-and-white. A wraith made of nothing but ghostly light that shimmered in and out of existence, as if it was something that not even reality wanted to exist. Even so, it just continued to exist. Wings stretched out from its back, pinions tall and proud like a crowning moment while bearing sharp, elongated claws holding a sword. It was sharp and broad, promising a quick death to any who found themselves on the receiving end. It didn't have any legs visible beneath the ornate robes it wore, but some kind of armor was found at what I thought was the hip.

The face is what scared me the most.

Encased in armor, which spread outward like gigantic horns, was some kind of skull. It had sharp teeth, jagged like fangs. Its eyes, three if what I'm seeing is right, were in the very center of its head. Tiny and in a triangle formation.

It took me a moment to realize that I was starting to sweat, just from being near this thing. It took me another moment to realize it knew I was here.

And it was looking right at me.

"...well, fuck me."

In response, the being for me growled - voice echoing with malicious intent and barely contained wraith - before it raised its hand. In seconds, I felt a sense of wrongness fall about me - as if something was out of place - before my instincts flared. I jumped back, thus avoiding the tear that opened up beneath my feet. Had I moved a second sooner, I would have joined the Grimm. It took me a second to realize something else as well.

This thing...was creating those tears. It was consuming the Grimm with then. But why?

I didn't expect any answers out of this thing. If anything, I expected it to kill me. Without further ado, I pulled on my weapon, unfurling it into its sword form, preparing myself.

In response, the wraith brandished its own blade.

* * *

I have seen the weapons at the disposal of the Guardians. Firearms and rifles of the sorts. Few wielded actual blades - among them was my own WillBreaker, reforged in their Wretched Light and made equal to Crota's own sword. The weapon this Warrior of the Light brandished was...different. Gears whirred and clicked together, pieces shifting to form into a two-handed sword, larger than himself.

Curious...perhaps human ingenuity in this world has progressed? No matter. I wished to test this Huntsman's mettle for myself. If he had the instinct to avoid one of my transdimensional tears, then perhaps this experiment would be of some worthwhile notice.

I gathered in my spectral image's hand a ball of writhing darkness, splitting it apart and reforming it before sending the pieces flying. The Huntsman, in response, moved quickly and using the trees as cover to avoid the blasts. With a beat of my wings, I gave chase. This form did not truly exist in the material world. In the eyes of humans, this spectral image would be little more than a ghost. As such, the trees and wildlife unhindered me in my pursuit.

Once within range, I swung my sword. The Huntsman deftly ducked under its swing, spinning around on his heel and readying for the second blow. In mid-swing, I grasped the hilt of my phantom replica and swung it down upon him. He blocked it effortlessly, using the flat of his own blade to impede my own. That said, he found himself struggling beneath the weight of the blade. Realizing that he would crumble beneath the weight and be left vulnerable, he fell out and rolled away. I relented my strike and craned my head in time to see the Huntsman put distance between us.

"Well, you're definitely no Grimm." the Huntsman remarked wearily, red eyes narrowed as he tensed. I could feel his own fear. Like a Guardian, I felt little. However little, it was still fear. "Never met one that looks like some kind of freaking ghost other than a Geist that could possess shit. And you don't look like one of Salem's new pets, so...I gotta wonder. What are you?"

Salem? Pet?

...I see. So the Grimm possessed a Master? It seems this Huntsman would prove useful after all. If he holds knowledge of the Grimm and whoever controls them, it would make finding the wretched curs who wronged me all the more easier...as it would be to wipe them off the face of this planet.

Regardless, I saw no reason to answer. Instead, once again gathered writhing darkness in my grasp. I set it loose upon the foolish human. The Huntsman was quick to respond as usual, only his weapon surprised me yet again. The blade split apart into segments, clamoring atop each other and crawling atop the shaft before forming into what could be best described as a scythe of some kind.

The weapons of these Warriors of the Light can change as well? This world continues to grew more curious.

But it mattered not. His weapon could change into countless shapes. He was no Guardian. He was inferior to a God of the Hive. He was to fall here and become apart of my Taken.

With impressive ability, the scythe in his grasp spun around and cut through the mass of darkness, separating it into halves and leaving them to crash to the ground behind him. He then charged at me, intent on taking my head. I reciprocated with a thrust of my blade. He jumped, using it as a means to jump high and vault over him, proceeding to strike at me in mid-air. My wing curled, blocking his strike. Ghostly flames burned where he struck, and I felt mild irritation.

Was this, perhaps, damage? Hm...it seems this soul-like form of mine is vulnerable. How irritable. No matter. Compared to the pain the Guardian inflicted, this is little more than a pinprick. A tiny needle pushing into your skin. I would say this, however. It was quite annoying. I turned around, creating a wave of darkness in my wake that forced the Huntsman to back away, lest his light become threatened. I then conjured up a wave of black, holding my hand above my head.

Already, I felt a mass of darkness begin to swirl about, soaking up the Light in the air. The Huntsman looked weary before he realized what was happening, and promptly leaped to strike me down as fast as possible.

A futile attempt.

* * *

Something was wrong. The air...it started to become sickly. The atmosphere grew cold as ice - as if I was back in the frigid hell that was the capital of frozen wastelands Atlas - and oppressive. Black waves rippled across the air, spawning from the hand of the wrath in front of me.

Oh hell no! Not on my watch, asshole!

I wasn't about to let this thing finish whatever it hand in mind. I leaped out in attempt to stop it, only to find something slamming into me and knocking me to the ground. Something heavy was pressing down upon me, pinning me to this spot. When I regained my bearings, I saw what it was and couldn't hold back my shock.

It was a Beowolf...only it wasn't. Its shape was the same as a Beowolf, but its whole body was shimmering. Nothing but a writhing mass of black, wreathed in an unearthly light. Where the red eyes should be, trails of pale light glared down on me, fangs ready to chew my head. Just as leaned down, intending to bite my head off, I brought up my scythe. I struck it in the face, and threw it off of me with a well-placed kick to the abdomen.

I got back up to my feet...only for my heart to sink.

Coming out from the woodwork were more Grimm. Warped and twisted just like the Beowolf I kicked off of me. The same was the wraith. A disturbing sense of wrongness washed over me, worse than before. Suddenly, I realized just what the tears were for.

This wraith was absorbing the Grimm. Taking them for something. Corrupting them. It made them its pawns. In my experience, the only true darkness I knew was Salem. She was practically the Mother of Grimm, spawning them tirelessly from the Grimmlands and popping them out like pills in a bottle.

But...this thing in front of me...for a second, I realize that, while Salem's lackies served her as if she was a goddess, birthing monsters and sewing the seeds of chaos...this thing was worse.

It wasn't just some random monster.

It was...Darkness.

It was darkness itself.

 **...Pathetic.**

My heart nearly stopped as I looked back at the wraith. Its jaw curled into a sneer, eyes smoldering as its ritual proceeded unheeded.

 **Is this all a Warrior of the Light of this world is capable of? The Guardians who felled me were of much sterner stuff!**

It took my brain ten seconds to process what it just heard.

The wraith...talked.

* * *

"Pathetic." I growled. "Is this all a Warrior of the Light of this world is capable of? The Guardians who felled me were of much sterner stuff!"

I found myself disappointed with this Huntsman. When he saw my Taken, and understood the full weight of my prowess, his fear had risen to extreme heights. He was deathly afraid now. How lamentable...his skills were impressive, yet he's so rattled by a few measly Taken? To a Guardian, such numbers would be child's play. Yet so few numbers scare him? Or was it because he understood that I held, within my power, to corrupt them? Regardless, he was disappointing.

...no matter. I would "Take" him and gleam his secrets from his wretched mind.

At the apex of the gathering darkness, I crushed it in my hand. It discharged, and the very air itself burned. Darkness roared, exploding out and snuffing out the foolish Light that made itself known to me. A heavy black aura swallowed up the area, consuming and ending whatever was foolish enough to be caught. My Taken were corrupted by such an immense Darkness, thus they were not affected.

The same could not be said for the Huntsman.

"Light!" my voice boomed as I demanded what I wanted from the Huntsman. "Give your will...TO ME!"

Soon, the result of my arcane arts faded away into nothingness. The impact on the local wildlife was devastating. The earth became rotted, broken and left in a ashen gray color. The trees had withered and died, shriveled into gray husks devoid of life. Their leaves had disintegrated, down to the very last particle in their cells. My Taken spasmed and shook with euphoria, having bathed in my Darkness once again.

To my displeasure and confusion, however...the speck of Light had aluded me. I looked up, finding a black crow flying high into the air, fleeing with the presence of a flickering Light within. The same Light as the Huntsman from earlier.

Shape-shifting? The Semblances of this world continue to fascinate. A shame I had not been able to "Take" him, however.

No matter...I have plenty of time.

I had recruited a sufficient amount of Taken to my side. I would take my leave for now. Just as I was about to disperse my spectral image, and my consciousness return to my human self, I felt a surprising presence.

A flickering Soul, tainted by the Darkness.

I curved my head, finding a peculiar Grimm hiding in the nestle of leaves away from the grasp of my arts. It was bizarre, bearing an orb with slithering black tentacles. From within that orb, I could feel a pair of prying eyes.

"A peeping tom?" I snorted. "Hmph."

With a flick of my hand, a transdimensional tear opened, consuming the bizarre Grimm and adding it to my Soulspace. I felt it become corrupted not a second later. To my surprise, however...this Grimm was partially sentient. Unlike its kin, it had a directive. A mission.

Observe.

Someone had witnessed the Huntsman engaging me and my "Taking" of the Grimm.

I remember the Huntsman's words of the Grimm possessing a Master. Perhaps they were the prying eyes who spied on me?

Regardless, this "Salem" earned my curiosity. I felt her Soul, however faintly, within that Grimm. It was a Soul with the abherrent light...but it was utterly stained black. The brilliance of its Light, stained pitch black. It was not to the same extent as my own, but it was still corrupted.

How...curious.

* * *

 _Elsewhere, hidden deep within the putrid Grimmlands, a woman winced in pain as she felt her connection with the Seer become severed. She hissed, palming her temples. "What in the world was that?" she questioned, the sensation far unusual. It was well within her ability to watch the world through the eyes of her Seers - they were meant to become her Eyes and Ears, after all. However, that bizarre creature...it somehow severed the connection._

 _No, that wasn't right...it was more appropriate to say that it 'destroyed' her link with the Grimm itself. By killing a Grimm, their essence simply returns to her and their knowledge becomes apart of her. The same with the Seers. Unlike with the rest of her 'children,' however, she could actively watch the world outside her lands. Even if they were destroyed, their knowledge would pass on to her._

 _But...that creature...it didn't kill her Grimm._

 _It CONSUMED it._

 _Her mind processed what it did. It opened unearthly portals - taking her 'children' and consuming them before engaging Qrow Branwen. It effortlessly managed to repel and even terrify him._

 _An impressive feat. After all, even though the man was a traitor to his tribe, he was still of Branwen blood. It is not easy to instill utter fear into one of their members._

 _Her body shook, trembling in excitement (and...what was this? Slight arousal?) when she recalled the vile aura it released when battling Ozpin's most trusted warrior._

 _That darkness it exhaled from its being. It was...powerful. Cold. Unflinching. All-devouring._

 _..._ **beautiful** _._

 _"Cinder." the woman commanded as she developed a link with another of her Seers, contacting one of her most devoted pawns. "Call off your search for the Fall Maiden. There's been a new development. A rather...curious one. Head to the Forever Fall immediately. And bring Watts with you. I imagine he will be most pleased to examine what he will find."_

* * *

As soon as my body returned to its human shape, I collapsed on the ground. My lungs screamed at me, forcing me to gulp large amounts of air.

Fucking hell...well, this is gonna take a few years off my life span.

Okay, so I'm a coward. Sue me. But you try looking in the face a bunch of corrupted Grimm and the guy who corrupted them.

That was what scared me more than anything else. I've seen what Salem's built in the Grimmlands. I've seen what she can do. It can make anyone in this world - even as heartless as a certain Tin Man in Atlas - shit their pants and hide under their beds, calling for mommy.

But...that thing?

That thing is worse.

The fact that there was something out there - something other than Salem - that could wreak so heavily of disgusting darkness that terrified me. Worse, it was gathering and consuming Grimm to corrupt. That, of course, meant that this thing was not affiliated with her whatsoever.

Its words to me rung in my ears as I fled like a literal bat out of hell:

 _ **Light! Give your will...TO ME!**_

I tried to calm my heart beat. To stop it before it exploded. I sat up and pulled out my Scroll, dialing up a number. Didn't take long for that caffeine-obsessed boss of mine to answer.

"Oz, its me." I said as seriously as possible. "We've got a problem. A MAJOR one."

-Chapter 2...END-


End file.
